It’s rare to glimpse the moon in the morning where I live, especially this time of year. If it’s not the fog hanging about, it’s the haze. But the other morning I arose just in time to see the sun bid the moon adieu in a clear blue sky.

It’s the third day of the New Year and I should be making plans, right? On the first day we can be forgiven for dawdling about. On the second day, well, we’re getting over the first day but on the third day there just aren’t any excuses. Time to get motivated like these blokes from one of my favorite feel-good movies (which I watched in honor of the recent death of one of its stars, Tom Wilkinson.)

I was surprised to read that this low budget flick did far better both critically and financially than expected. A group of unemployed steel workers decide to become strippers. Only one of them knows anything about dancing; only one of them is particularly handsome (or “hung”); and none of them are what you’d call “buff.” I mean, really! Who wouldn’t want to cheer them on? 

I’ve been working on a story about a family I once knew, which is probably why I’m having trouble getting motivated. It was a family that thrived on doing good deeds. They literally went to Mass every morning and fed, clothed, and sometimes even housed the transients loitering the streets of Reno Nevada. They rescued many lost and hopeless kids like me and always had a menagerie of pets, both domesticated and wild. On the surface, a wonderful family always joking and having fun.

But all Catholic tenets were indisputable. If you dared to doubt any of them, you were going to Hell. Even if you were as loving and giving as Jesus Christ himself, you had to accept all the tales in the New Testament as truth or you were going to Hell. As you can imagine, when the children became adults they all suffered from either schizophrenia or substance abuse. Not because they believed those stories but because they feared going to Hell if doubt crept into their minds. I see a lot of that fear in the world today and it’s frightening. Perhaps that’s why I’m entering 2024 on tip toes.